


Impure

by stickpush



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band), One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Banshees, Fae & Fairies, M/M, Male Slash, Nudity, Serial Killers, Supernatural Elements, Suspense, Vampires, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:22:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27304078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stickpush/pseuds/stickpush
Summary: Louis was alcohol, was empire, was revolution.Harry was death, was tattoos, was irreduction.In a city sunk in lust, prostitution, and surrounded by downworlders, everything seemed to be impure.Or the one where Louis owns the entire city, Harry is an investigator who hates humans but is forced to help him catch a serial killer and Luke needs to control Ashton before he sets the whole damn world on fire.
Relationships: Harry Styles & Louis Tomlinson, Luke Hemmings/Ashton Irwin, Zayn Malik/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> Well, hello to everyone and thanks for possibly accompanying me on this.
> 
> Writing is a holy remedy for me and as the last few days have been completely out of my control, I ended up showing up with this plot that honestly runs away from almost everything I have ever written, but that's life, right? 
> 
> The fanfic's universe is completely alternative, in a society in which technology and scenario are comparatively more or less like the end of the 19th century, around 1890.
> 
> The names are fictitious and do not mirror any place in our world. In this world, supernatural beings like banshees, fairies, nagas, vampires, sorcerers etc exist and are known as downworlders. They are not a secret, they live among humans normally, integrated with them.
> 
> The fanfic has a multitude of triggers involving violence, sex and prejudice. Issues like mourning, trauma, racial discrimination will be dealt with and perhaps if you are not comfortable with any of them, this is not the story for you.
> 
> In addition to Harry, Louis, Zayn and etc. I also have a lot of original characters, just to let you know.
> 
> The first chapter is an introduction, just to see your acceptance and if it’s good, I’ll keep posting.
> 
> I haven’t finished writing the story yet, so I don’t know exactly where it’s going to go, but I’ll keep you informed, okay? It's the first time I've written anything new in years, so I'm honestly freaking out here. 
> 
> Hope you like it!

_“I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity.”_ \- **Edgar Allan Poe.**

"Louis?" It was Zayn's voice. Apart from it, there was very little that would steal the room's silence. The fireplace was lit and the fire crackled occasionally, creating abstract figures in the gloom against the finely decorated walls.

Louis did not look at him. He had a glass of whiskey in his left hand and stared at the city lights in the distance. Far enough that it looked harmless. Close enough that he kept his eyes on it. The Tomlinson raised his glass a little, making a wrist move that indicated he was listening. He didn't turn around, though.

"It happened again." Zayn went straight to the point and Louis sighed heavily, the bottom of his conscience scolding himself, accusing him. He knew what was going to happen. He didn't do anything. 

But to be honest, what would he do? In the current situation, all he could think about was waiting for it to happen again and maybe, just maybe some pattern would pop out this time. Anything that would make the night brighter. Anything that could show him the way. 

"Who?" In the end, that was all that really mattered, right? _Who._

"Briana Jungwirth." And Louis turned the whisky of his glass in one single gulp down his throat.

❈

Septentrionalis was the poorest district of the four cardinal points and the most violent area of Noctis. Its muddy streets smelled like an open sewer and almost all the buildings looked like intricate puzzles in shades of gray that disgraced the eyes and seemed to suck any trace of happiness from a healthy person's chest.

In addition, it was also one of the main prostitution spots in the city. You see, not the kind of brothels that wealthy people frequented, but the kind of place you search for when any hole look hot enough.

It was a miserable place and Louis had to admit that he was not proud of himself for allowing things to continue as they were, but - again - what could he do? Septentrionalis moved more money than any of the other cardinal points and was home to a good percentage of the downworld population, so the mere idea of perhaps trying to rehabilitate the north quickly became unworkable in his head every time he thought about it.

The reality of the world was that poverty and disgrace had to exist in order for the nobility to remain noble.

And in the end, that's what it's all about, right?

Louis was shoved up to his neck in shit because he tried to de-marginalize the downworld.

And now it was biting him in the ass in the form of blood, death and tears and political crises that he was not in the least willing to face.

Even for someone like him, the difference between _wanting_ and _achieving_ was really abysmal, wasn't it?

"I don't know what you intend to find here other than syphilis, but-" Zayn made a dismissive sign and didn't complete the sentence, quickly shrugging as he got Tomlinson's skewed look, before they both stepped out of the carriage when the doors were opened by the two coachmen.

While Louis zipped up his lead-gray blazer and quickly fixed his tie, Zayn had barely bothered to put a vest over the white shirt he wore and that didn't even accompany a damn tie, but certain fights had been born lost and Tomlinson would not argue about this any more than he had done for half his life.

No... If the Baalihan hadn't changed in the last twelve years, he just wouldn't change now. It was enough to accept.

The _Purgatorium_ was at the intersection between the 12th Street and the railroad and even in broad daylight, its main entrance was dotted with downworlders wearing little or no clothing at all, who opened lustful smiles at the slightest sign of a potential paying customer, calling passersby to a possible unpretentious fuck before the end of lunchtime break.

At least until Louis stepped out of the carriage.

The first to notice his presence was a fairy who wore no more than a male shirt three times her size and high heels and if at that point she was flirting with an old man - who seemed honestly old enough to be her grandfather -, with her sparkling wings rested against her back, well, things changed after their arrival. The fae quickly widened her eyes and turned away from the client, shooting into the brothel and attracting the attention of her co-workers.

Zayn walked beside Louis carelessly as they attracted more and more looks upon them. The flirtations stopped, the laughter, the intoxicated provocations and even the sound of the train seemed to rush to go on their own way as quickly as possible, leaving the crossing in almost a sepulchral silence.

Louis had just touched the main entrance door when it abruptly open, revealing the uncomfortably figure of a woman owner of an _offensive_ beauty. _Honestly offensive_. The kind of someone who made you rethink the idea of beauty itself. That was one of the things that made the underworld so hated, to speak frankly. Humans couldn't compete with them in reasonable terms. 

The woman was clearly a succubus. Louis didn't knew her, but he also didn't need to know her to be awfully aware of exactly what kind of creature she was.

Her hair was so blond that it bordered on gray and was tied in a purposefully disorganized bun, with curly locks framing the face of sharply cheekbones, firm features, full and rosy lips and lilac eyes, bright enough to serve as a beacon during a dark night.

"Mr. Tomlinson, it is a pleasure to welcome you." The woman's voice was silky as a kiss and her scent mixed cocoa and coffee — proving once again that she was indeed a succubus. They were Louis's favorite smells. Succubi smelled differently for each person.

"Interesting to hear that when you keep blocking my way in." Louis responded politely and patiently, seeing the succubus almost trip over herself in the process of moving away from the passage, allowing Louis to enter the brothel, accompanied by a Zayn who had already given at least two _too long_ looks at the house staff.

The posture changed, however, the moment the door closed behind them.

Now Zayn was there like Louis Tomlinson's Hound, leaning his back against the door and putting his hands in his pocket, watching as an eagle for whatever might happen in the next few minutes.

The brothel was exactly what expected from one: stuffy, enveloped in a cloud of smoke from cigars and cigarettes, with slightly threadbare sofas and drenched tables, with intoxicated customers, and employees partially or completely naked, slipping from one lap to the other, splitting drinks on the floor and letting themselves be touched by hands that demanded a piece of them.

The only difference between this and any brothel was that none of the whores was human.

They varied.

There was a kitsune hiding part of her nakedness with her own foxtails, a naga with snake scales shining on part of her back and neck and a few more beings that at first glance didn't differ from an ordinary human, but, well, that was the appeal. They were human. Barely. Enough to be touched. Enough to light up the desire. Not enough to have rights.

And, of course, standing in front of Louis, was the succubus who seemed to own the place.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Tomlinson?" Speaking of which...

Louis faced the woman again, having the decency to admit to himself that it was _very difficult_ not to sexualize the succubus, even though she was by far one of the most dressed people in the room. Looking at the madam made him want to turn her against the counter and fuck the creature senseless. 

"I'm looking for someone and I was told I could find him here." Regardless of his indecent ideas, he continued to look the woman in the eyes. Louis had this— _intensity_. This thing that made very difficult for someone to get comfortable under his gaze. It was as if he was going through a person's soul, searching for the truth in their gut. "Harry Styles."

The woman swallowed and that was more than an answer for Louis, but he let the situation go on.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Tomlinson, but I believe that you've received the wrong information—"

"Zayn." Honestly, Zayn barely moved. He raised one hand, yes, but he was a good ten feet away from the succubus when she started to fumble her own neck desperately, her eyes wide, her neck veins looking like they wanted to burst the edge of her skin while she seemed to struggle for oxygen.

Zayn was quietly in the same place as before and the only sign that he was the cause of the assault was his eyes - whose sclerotics had turned black as night - and his hand raised in the direction of the succubus.

With a nod from Louis, Zayn stopped.

The madam breathed again, her knees giving way and her beautiful body hitting the floor in a dull thud. At that point, the silence was sepulchral. All the employees and customers were staring at them and there was this— _energy_ hovering over their heads, something that said that each of the downworlders in that place were thinking about what the chances would be like if they buy this fight. They clearly wanted to help the madam.

But there was Zayn.

And Baalihans were as rare as they were powerful. Especially an unscrupulous one like Zayn.

"Let's try again, Miss—"

"Louis Tomlinson," Louis looked up from the succubus to find where the voice was coming from, finding a man at one of the tables furthest in the back. A man who appeared to be somewhere in his late twenties, with a particularly pale skin and long brown hair, caught in what looked like a sloppy attempt bun on the top of his head and piercing green eyes. He had a notebook in one hand and wore gloves even though he was inside the brothel. To beyond this, he didn't appear to be enjoying any employees's company. He sat alone and the hustle and bustle seemed to happen around him, but didn't really affect the man. "Could you be so kind as to leave Andreja alone?"

"And would you be...?" Louis was already waiting for the answer, but again, he just let the situation go on. He took pleasure in it.

“Harry Styles. And I already know what you want from me. ”

Well, fair enough. 


	2. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!  
> I don't know if anyone is actually reading this, but I'm posting anyway.  
> If there is a reader out there, comments or kudos would make my fingers very happy. Happy fingers write faster.  
> Sorry for any error, I am not the best at finding them and English is not my mother tongue, which should have been clear by now. Anyway--  
> Enjoy it!

_“Ah, but my dear sir, the why must never be obvious. That is the whole point.” -_ **Agatha Christie**

The smell of blood was so pungent that seemed to be physical.

Luke's headache started to pop in the back of his head as soon as the odor hit him. Sounded like a bad joke, right? Life was a damn ironic bitch, and Luke could definitely prove it.

Not that there was any real need for that, but he took a deep breath as soon as he found himself outside the door in which - he knew - he would find Ashton. It was pathetic. Pathetic that someone could cause him so much trouble, so much worry, so many hours of sleep deprivation, and yet Luke felt completely unable to get him out of his life.

He counted to ten in his mind before opening the door, realizing that he was only delaying the inevitable.

Ashton was sitting against the large bedroom window's stool, naked. His immortalized youthful nineteen years old body was a temple of imperfect beauty, but one that always seemed like art to Luke. He was slim, but his muscles were well designed. His skin was pale, but slightly licked by the sun, and his hair's color was a beautiful shade of wet sand, glistening slightly against the sunset that bathed him.

He had a glass of wine in one hand and his _almost-dry-bloody-fingers_ were leaving stains all over the crystal.

One of his legs hung out of the stool and he swung it casually from side to side, almost bumping his foot against the human's face just under his feet.

The poor boy had an infinite number of bites on his body, deep and violent wounds, which were still slowly bleeding, since Ashton didn't seem to even want start caring about it, playing with the human's life, leaving him to fend for himself.

Or for Luke's _timing_.

Ashton smiled openly as soon as he saw Hemmings come in, but there was an unveiled malice around his lips. There always was.

"Not." Luke decided to prune it immediately, walking over to the human lying on the floor, kneeling beside him and using his fangs to bite his own wrist, pressing the open wound against the human's lips, using gravity to his advantage when he knew that the human was in the depths of his own unconsciousness and would not suck the vampire's blood even if his life depended on it. And you see, it depended.

"Oh, please, he's not even dead." Ashton rolled his eyes, jumping out of the window, standing just a few inches apart from Luke. His nakedness inappropriately close to Luke's face, who looked at him reproachfully.

“Close, Ashton. I could not have arrived so soon and what would you do? Let him die? ” He honestly felt like a father there, raging against a son who did not want to obey him even by decree. The problem was that Ashton was not his son - far from it - and his disobedience cost lives and not all of them would be human, if he continued with that madness.

"It's just a human, Luke."

"It's not just a human, Ashton!" Luke considered himself one of the calmest and focused people in the fucking world, but he could feel the tremors wanting to go up his arm when arguing with the boy. Ashton was chaos, it was blood and it was irresponsibility, but those were no more times for that. “It is a political crisis. They are humans wanting our heads more than ever. Powerful people, willing to turn the whole city to ashes if it means that we will burn with it. They just need a reason and you are one step closer to giving them exactly what they want. ”

"We are stronger than them." Ashton seemed finally, _finally_ to be coming out of his unwavering irreverence and Luke considered it a victory. That and the fact that - after endless seconds - the human was weakly sucking his blood. Returning to the world of the living.

“But they are in greater numbers. They are many, far more than we will ever be and they hate everything they don't understand. They have the knowledge, they have the weapons and will not hesitate to hunt us down, no matter how much it will cost them. ” Luke took his wrist away from the boy's mouth when he thought that was enough, licking his own skin so that the wound would close. “Now is not the time to spill blood. I will not be able to protect you if you kill someone. ” Luke Hemmings wouldn't be able to protect him. The _pureblood_ vampire Luke Hemmings wouldn't. All because he knew that if a human were killed, the downworlders would prefer to exterminate one of their own and turn him as an example, rather than facing a civil war.

And Luke would have to leave.

"Would you give me up, Luke?" If Ashton had previously been amused by teasing Luke's nerves, now he looked deathly serious. The white body spattered with blood that was not his, tense like a violin string.

The pureblood lifted the human off the floor with the ease of someone who took a child and placed him calmly on the bed. Luke didn't know the boy's name, but he was an asian with full and well-drawed lips and black hair that passed his shoulders. He was very handsome and he was also naked. Ashton had sex with the guy before leaving him on the verge of death during a caprice's crisis.

Yes, _caprice_ , because Ashton always do that when Luke get involved with someone. And last night, Luke had a date. 

"You were once human, Ashton, and my biggest regret in four hundred and twenty-one years of life was once making you stop being one." He wasn't going to answer Ashton's question, because he might end up cheating himself. Maybe he would stumble. Maybe he would make the truth clear: that he would rather prefer to wipe out the fucking humanity, before letting anyone touch Ashton.

Touch his boy.

“Dress up. I need to leave soon and I want to make sure that no one will associate you with this boy's attack after I take him home. ” As he left the room, Luke gasped at the mere idea created by his treacherous mind.

The idea of Ashton one day ends up getting into a bigger problem than Luke could solve.

❈

“Briana Jungwirth. That’s your reason, right? ” They were no longer in the main hall of the Purgatorium, but in a small room on the third floor of the building. The place, it seemed, belonged to Harry.

A few minutes ago, as they were walking up the stairs, Louis heard the succubus named Andreja give orders for customers to be chased out and for the brothel to close the doors, at least until Louis Tomlinson returned to where he came from.

Now, slowly and gradually, all they could hear were doors closing and the train again shaking the building as it crossed the suspended tracks.

"She was the trigger, not the reason." Louis clarified, looking around the room. It was— _Minimalist_ , to say the least. A single bed whose mattress seemed far from comfortable, with the sheets spread and arranged in a military pattern, a nightstand with a book and a candle, a small, threadbare wardrobe and a small circular mirror, hanging from the wall.

Ah, there was also a door in the right corner of the room, probably a bathroom.

Luxury was a word that seemed to be long gone from that man's life.

Zayn was quiet, leaning against the door again, but Louis knew he would probably have something to say about a man who lived of his own choosing inside a brothel. The Malik always had a comment to make about that kind of thing.

"You want me to find out who killed her." It was not a question, so Louis did not answer it.

Harry wore a white shirt closed to the neck, black suspenders attached to black pants, and a pair of leather gloves. The only bare part of his body was from the collar up and his eyes were cold as Noctis's winter as he leaned against the only window in the room, keeping as much distance as he could between himself and the Tomlinson.

Despite the attitude, Harry Styles didn't seem to be afraid of Louis.

It was more like— Almost _disgusted_. Purposeful and disgusted detachment.

Harry Styles didn't like him and it was as clear as day.

"Your name is tirelessly repeated every time I looked for a good investigator and now that my sources are running low ..." Look, not the money sources. No, Louis had so much money that he could support ten future generations in full luxury, even if he stopped earning it that very second, but he was running out of options of people who could do something for him.

All his men were on that mission. Every individual who owed him anything, but so far, that had given him a lot of cross-information that didn't get him anywhere. And as if that were not enough, much of the downworld community did not intend to help him.

Louis was stuck in shit because of them, but they weren't going to help him.

"Do Louis Tomlinson's sources run out too?" Harry was sharp.

"When the downworld chooses to abstain, yes." Louis too.

"They will be butchered if they try to get involved in this kind of political intrigue."

"It is a serial killer, not a political crisis."

"It's a political statement when this killer starts killing people close to you after you have given up control from three of the four cardinal points to downworld leaders and I don't want to be a part of that."

"I am not asking."

"And what are you going to do to make me?"

"I don't know exactly, but I have great ideas involving bladed weapons and the Purgatorium staff, while you watch."

The silence that fell over them both after that argument was so heavy that it could easily be cut with a knife. Zayn thought of whistling some song just to make some of it dissipate, but well, when he was the Hound, he knew how to behave.

If they were at home, he would have hummed.

"Great way to make friends, Tomlinson." Harry's jaw was clearly tense and the vein in his temple was perfectly visible, but he remained where he was and maintained all the composure and dignity expected of someone who did not bend easily.

Still, Louis understood that the employees there were important to him. And, really, Louis was able to empathize with that. Zayn was a downworlder. More than a downworlder, he was a Baalihan, the fruit of the carnal relationship between a greater demon and a human. They were rare not only because greater demons almost never set foot on the ground, but because they were commonly hunted and killed as babies.

And Zayn was the closest person Louis ever had, so he really empathized.

But he couldn't be Noctis's Heart and empathic at the same time, or at least, not all the time. Harry would not help him if he continued to treat him cordially and he was literally the only name to show up when the request was _"I must find someone who can track down a killer who leaves no trace_ ".

"We are not friends. I dare say that we will never be, but I understand that the people down there are important to you and they will die in marginality if I go back on my decisions and take away the downworld's control of the three cardinal points. We may have started on the left foot, but our goals are the same in the end. ” Louis was as rational as possible in a situation like this, where he had just threatened to perform a massacre in exchange for someone's cooperation.

The Tomlinson's were zodiacs. One of the twelve families that controlled the continent. Each representing a sign of the Chinese zodiac, they were the absolutist monarchs, judges and juris, the final word of their own territories and to whom all others needed to bow. The Tomlinsons were the Serpents and Louis happened to be the last living member of that family.

The lonely king.

And a revolutionary. The first zodiac to trying to give rights and powers to the downworld, make them allies.

But of course, revolutions were never peaceful.

Humans were in the majority. Worldwide, only 22% of the population was downworlder at some level and despite all of them being superior to humans at some point - or several - almost all of them had weaknesses too. Attackable points. Things that killed'em or rendered'em useless with ease. Those who did not have it were cruelly slaughtered in early childhood, like the Baalihans, and this left the balance dangerously disadvantageous for the downworld.

They were marginalized, prostituted, enslaved, fetishized, and frequently attacked.

Louis, however, did not think so.

He started to think differently after Zayn saved his life more than a decade ago and has since tried to implant his progressive thoughts in his territory. But even for someone powerfull like him, it was a bloody battle.

"No, they are not, Tomlinson." Harry tried to run the fingers of his left hand through his hair, forgetting that they were in a bun and ending up setting they lose. It felt like a nervous tic, something he did when he was exposed to some kind of pressure. Louis thought the man's hair was beautiful, even though it was marked by the leather strap that used to hold it together.

Louis liked beautiful things. He was fascinated by them.

"Whatever makes you sleep at night." Louis made a dismissive motion with his hand. "'Going to help me?"

"After you asked me so nicely, of course." There was cynicism running down the corners of the man's mouth with every word spoken by the well-drawn lips, while his expression of pure displeasure looked like it would never leave his face.

"You will be rewarded appropriately."

"Don't bother." Harry stepped out of the window, approaching Louis now that he had apparently resigned himself to helping the man. “I need information on all the victims so far. Photographs, if you have. I also need to see Briana Jungwirth's body as soon as possible. ”

“Sure, whatever you need, but tomorrow. I still have a lot of things to take care of after Briana's murder, but Zayn will pick you up in the early tomorrow's hours. ” And Louis could already hear in his mind the complaints that Zayn would make as soon as they stepped outside the brothel, about _why things always need to be done in the early hours of the morning?_

"You are the boss, Tomlinson." Harry was the materialization of dislike in the form of a person.

"Exactly. It's a good thing we clarified that part. ” Zayn stepped away from the door and opened it for Louis to pass. "Have a nice day."

And Harry maybe, maybe not, made an obscene gesture at it. 


	3. III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys!
> 
> It took me a little longer to post, but adult life is a bitch.  
> Thanks to each person who took the time to read, comment, or leave kudos, you guys are great ♥ 
> 
> TW: mention of suicide.

_“Good books don't give up all their secrets at once.”_ ― **Stephen King**

"Briana Jungwirth ... Tell me about her." Harry had been promptly picked up by Zayn a few hours ago and Louis got there a little bit later, alone. He had to stop by his office in the early hours of the morning, so he could organize her funeral. Briana's funeral. Yes, he could let one of his employees do it, but only the thought of delegate the job gave him the sharp feeling that he was failing Briana again.

No, he was planning the funeral personally.

"What do you want to know about her?" They were in the city morgue. It was what you would expect of one if Louis could be honest about it: poorly lit, smelling of chemicals, and definitely ten degrees cooler than the weather outside that place, at any time of the year.

Louis was perfectly used to death in general, but being in there caused a nuisance in the back of his neck. Being there _in the presence of Briana's body_ did more than that. It made him honestly want to drink to the point of destroying his own liver and not remember his name, which should be enough explanation of how hard Louis took that particularly strike.

“I want to understand why she was killed. I want to understand your relationship.” Harry was dressed basically in the same way as the day before, except for the fact that his hair was now tied up in a ponytail - no longer in a bun - and that he was wearing a blazer over his white shirt.

"Are you trying to tell me that you don't know who she is?" Not that Louis considered himself the gossip of the city, actually he was very fond of being extremely discreet, but not knowing exactly what degree of intimacy Briana and him shared— _Harry was living under a fucking rock?_

_Yes_ , Louis hid his personal life, _yes_ , Louis was not a pleasantly public figure and _yes_ , he inspired respect - or perhaps fear - that made many people whisper instead of speak out loud, but Briana's news - at the time of the incident - was like fire and gunpowder: it spread and exploded in a matter of seconds.

“I'm trying to say that if there is a person whose life doesn't interest me at all, with all due respect, that person would be you. I don't know who she is. I've never heard of your relationship. I wouldn't want to hear about it on normal days, but here we are, right? How about making my job easier?” Harry was pulling the sheet that covered Briana's body, folding it, and leaving her completely naked on the counter.

"I literally killed people for less, Styles, control the tone." It was good that Harry was straight forward, it was good that things flowed quickly between them, but if Louis let a single person lack respect in front of him and eventually that person got used to it and maybe one day that lack of respect shows itself in front of other people— See, Louis was the last of his name. His throne was on the line and he knew it. There were influential people who wanted him out and fear and respect were the two pillars that kept him where he was. Harry had no right to go over this.

"Pardon." Harry clearly didn't sound apologetic, but understanding that they had more important things to worry about, Louis let it go.

Briana was lying on the metal table, her naked body already clearly showing that death had lodged in it.

The entire surface of his body was deeply pale, while everything that touched or was close to touching the stretcher had visible bruises. _Livor mortis_ , Louis knew. All the lower parts of the body would accumulate with coagulated blood, forming these bruises. It used to indicate the position in which the person had stayed after dying. There... He couldn't tell for sure. Briana had been found quickly and was endlessly examined. The position changed a hundred times. 

Her lips were extremely blue, there were gray bags under her eyes and if she had once been an incredibly beautiful woman, now she looked like the creation of some horror story.

“We were lovers, about two years ago. Due to our carelessness, she got pregnant and I asked her to marry me at the time so that our son wouldn't be born a bastard. She lost the child in the seventh month of pregnancy, during delivery. It was extremely traumatic for her, for me and our relationship fell apart as a result, soon after. I hadn't seen her in months. She said that looking at me reminded her of our son and that was too much for her. I respected it.” Louis never came to love Briana. He had loved once, he knew exactly what love was about and what he felt for Briana... Well, it just _never was_.

But he liked her. He fell in love with her and proposing to her was an honest due. He would have been faithful to her if that marriage really happened. He wanted their son to have a family, he would strive for that family to be much better than his own, but it didn't happen.

Zayn was respectfully silent and avoided glancing at the woman's body, taking his time to admire the coroner's instruments, arranged on a tray.

“Apart from our relationship, she was the only heir to the _Jungwirths_ , a family of rich bankers and one of the oldest Tomlinson's allies. They are openly in favor of my progressive ideas for the sake of the downworld— or _were_. I don't intend to blame them if they withdraw their support after what happened to Briana. ”

"I'm sorry to say that, but she was an obvious victim." Harry seemed to be as sensitive and empathetic as a rhino in heat in a crystal shop, and Zayn clearly had a lapse of fury at hearing that, which was only stopped because Louis was looking at him and made a prohibition move. Otherwise, he probably would have punched Harry.

Punched Styles for inferring that Louis had purposely let his son's mother die.

“I thought she was safe. Briana was untouchable.”

" _Being untouchable is relative._ " Harry said, looking closely at the woman's body, occasionally moving a limb, opening her mouth, her eyelids, and clearly fighting the rigor mortis who took her over. All this, wearing gloves. "You are untouchable, but here, in these circumstances, in this morgue and at that moment, Zayn could even kill me next, but I'm perfectly capable of killing you if I wanted to." Harry looked at the scalpel less than a foot from his hand on a small metal table next to his body and then looked slowly at the distance between him and Louis. Five feet at most. "Everything is situational."

Louis smiled but said nothing.

Harry was assuming the same thing that everyone assumed: that Louis was helpless. That he carried Zayn from side to side, tied to a leash because he didn't know how to defend himself. Of course, against some types of downworlders, it might be that Louis would find himself in a painful disadvantage, but against humans? Against Harry? Well, let's say that at least when it was Zayn who killed someone, he tended to be fast. Painless, even.

Louis could _not_ say that about himself, not in his best days.

But Harry could believe what he wants. Better that way. 

"Has the cause of death been declared by the coroner?" Harry went on.

"No. The entire external examination was carried out with no sign of what could have killed her and for anything that goes beyond that, I or her family would have to allow the body to be opened and — I am not inclined to permit that. Briana wouldn't want to. And this murder is no different from the other two.” And they had been opened. Nothing had been found.

Harry fixed his green eyes on Louis's icy blue for a moment, seeming to weigh the situation for long seconds, before looking away and slowly taking off his own gloves. Louis didn't exactly saw a reason for him to do that after examining Briana up to that point using them, but he didn't think much about it either.

He saw Harry touch Briana again and maybe for a second his expression was unsettling, but it was just a flash. Yes, he got considerably paler in a row and Louis could say that because he was paying attention to the man's focused face and saw the color fade from his lips, however, Harry just proceeds to do whatever he was doing, impassive, almost.

Finally, he did something that honestly made Louis uncomfortable, stuffing both of his own fingers into Briana's mouth and bringing them up to his nose.

Okay, that had been grotesque.

"She was poisoned." And where, exactly, _that conclusion came from?_

Louis decided that to search indirectly for his own answers. 

"And did you deduce that because...?" Louis tried to encourage him to keep talking.

"By the smell."

"Smell? _One that no one else felt?_ ”

“Honestly, Tomlinson, it was you who brought me here, I didn't want to be involved, but if you are going to be doubting everything I say, or looking for a reason for all the things I do, we are not going to get anywhere. She was poisoned. I am not lying, I have no doubt that this was the case and I suspect I know which poison was used here, but I am not going to give you more details than that about how I know. ” Again, Louis saw Zayn pull away from the door, with clearly unfriendly impulses, but Louis raised his open hand again, ordering wordless for him to calm down.

Zayn was not used to seeing people talking to Louis like that. At least not people other than him. Louis himself was not used to letting people talk to him like that, but there was something about Harry, something about the way he didn't seek approval, how he seemed completely detached from the case and yet certain in his words, that—

Well, Louis was a _human polygraph_. He lived sunk in lies. He grew up knowing exactly how to use them and where to recognize them. Everyone spoke of how deep he was, how hard was to stand in front of him, under his eyes, but in the end boiled down to this: _Louis was constantly hunting lies_.

And Harry was not lying.

Whether or not it was true that Briana had been poisoned, that was another story, but that at the very least, Harry truly believed in it.

“There was nothing in the other two bodies to indicate poison intake. No marks, no internal damage.” Speaking of poison, the Tomlinsons were the Serpents for one good reason: _poison_.

Louis himself was a collector of them.

Harry straightened up, growing considerable inches taller than Louis. As soon as he did, he put on his gloves again.

“I don't believe it was ingested. It was inhaled.” Harry said slowly. “And yet most of the poisons would cause bleeding, damage to the exposed tissue, but a few years ago I had contact with a... A new species, I believe. He left no marks. It caused paralysis of the muscles, prevented the lung from expanding and the heart from beating, like—”

"Like a serpent's poison." Louis completed and Harry nodded slowly. "I never heard of anything like that."

"You definitely spend less time around the downworld than you should."

"Do you think this is the work of a downworlder?" It was starting to sound terribly absurd. A poison that could be applied in the form of vapor or aerosol, practically undetectable, and that had been created by a downworlder?

"If not a downworlder, at least someone who has contact with powerful sorcerers, particularly gifted in alchemy." Harry was covering Briana's body again, protecting his death and nakedness from the eyes of the world.

“What does a downworlder gain by attacking me? Attacking a project that aims to benefit them? ” Harry finished covering Briana's face and rested his hands above the metal table, while he stared at Louis silently as if pondering whether or not to say the next words. For someone who had been so blunt until now, it was honestly a surprise.

"What I am going to say now is not meant to offend you, but it will seem like it was..." He took a breath and let it out slowly before speaking again. “Taking the utopia out of thought, did you see exactly what the consequences of your forced division of power were?" Louis frowned, Harry continued. “You gave three of the four cardinal points to downworldly influencers, leaders of their own clans, people who - in any case - were already _untouchable_. Of course, it gives them the right and the power to protect more of their own, to create fertility where there was nothing before, to _legalize_ , but what about the rest, Louis? ”

“There are far more downworld breeds than the three who now control these cardinal points and the vast majority of them are— They are _people like those prostitutes at the Purgatorium_. Virtually helpless. Prostitutes. Scratched. And in the eyes of a human, there is no difference between the three pillars in power and the poor people who sell their bodies or any other service's type in exchange for misery. ”

“You opened a witch hunt. And when humans cannot reach those in power, what do you think they do? They leave a message. They make themselves heard in other ways and every time, in a violent way. Since its decree, violence against the downworld has grown so much that finding one of them dead somewhere is daily. And if we don't count what ends up in murder, the number multiplies even faster. _There are dozens of assault cases every day._ "

“You put already very powerful beings, in power, and forgot that they are the _exception_. The _rule_ is defenseless and at mercy. You gave visibility, but you did not create a punitive system. You did not create surveillance, you did not institute laws that protect them, you did not give them worthy health conditions, education, housing. You gave a very beautiful and finely embroidered pair of shoes... For a snake to wear, Louis.”

“Humans hate you. The downworld too. You don't just have one killer on the loose... You have several. I would start thinking about managing the civil war you created, along with the search for that killer.” Harry moved away from Briana, letting Louis keep his thoughts to himself, picking up the large file of leaf-lined folders that rested on a desk in the farthest corner of the morgue.

“I will review these files at home and get in touch with you as soon as I have looked at all the cases. Zayn gave me your office address.” In a silence that could be considered respectful, Harry left the morgue.

❈

“Ashton, manners." Luke instructed firmly, but not exactly hard. Ashton was not doing anything disastrously wrong, he was just _being Ashton_ and putting his hands where he shouldn't, pulling books off the shelves like he was at home and you see, he wasn't.

"They are just books, no state secrets." Louis dismissed the vampire's concern, understanding that being a friend and ally to Luke came with a price and the price was chaos in the form of a boy that he carried under his arm from side to side.

With his permission, Ashton ran his fingers back over the spines of the books, looking for something that interested him.

He looked like a hurricane. Among the downworlders, they called him _Prince of Chaos_ , which was well deserved, given that he was under the protection of Noctis' vampire king - Luke - and that he could easily turn any bar discussion into a massacre. Everyone knew stories about Ashton, such as the time when the boy decided to slaughter an entire village, killing each of the humans inside it - woman, children, the sick, and the old -, just because Luke needed to stay away from him for two months.

It was the way to get Luke back.

A crime which he was widely known as the author, but the one he would never pay for, because it had happened more than thirty years ago, in another Zodiac's territory. It had been at his birthplace, in the Tigers area.

As far as Noctis was concerned, Louis never had concrete evidence that the boy was involved in any deaths and, therefore, there was nothing to be done about it.

Not to mention that doing something about this particular problem meant conquering Luke's eternal enmity and it would be tremendously complicated to do that with a person with whom he had an _Unbreakable Vow_.

Not a promise, not a signed paper, but ancient magic that connected them and that would make the sealed vow between them never to be broken unless the cause of that rupture wanted to die immediately.

So... Ashton would be Luke's problem to the extent that whatever transgression the boy performed could no longer be ignored, due to his severity.

On that day, they would have a very difficult conversation.

Louis expected to be dead of old age when Ashton decided to do something like that. His corpse would rummage in the grave and would be all. No harm in it.

“Zayn, can you stay with Ashton?” The Malik nonchalantly agreed and approached the vampire with whom he had a relatively healthy friendship, while Louis guided Luke to the private office he had inside the house.

Louis's house was much less luxurious than imagined. Yes, he had an official residence, a palace in the center of the city, with countless rooms, a lounge large enough to house more than two hundred guests, incredibly ornate gardens, and all that trinket expected from the leader of a nation, but he didn't really live there.

He used the place for official parties and that kind of thing, however, his real address was a state secret, in a mansion away from everything and every one, on the edge of Meridionalis, facing the turquoise lake, which was his office window's view, whose door was closed as soon as the two entered the room. 

Noctis was divided into four cardinal points, in addition to the center. These cardinal points were nothing more than administrative regions, with sub-leaders who were personally chosen by Louis. Their names came from Latin and were divided as follows:

_**North - Septentrionalis** _

_**South - Meridionalis** _

_**East - Orientem** _

_**West - West** _

_**Center - Centrum** _

Each cardinal point was entitled to its own rules - as long as Louis sanctioned them - and their leaders were like state governors. They could make their own scales of power, set their own priorities, decide the distribution of income. Luke was the leader of Orientem and a pure-blooded vampire.

"Did you find any information about him?" Louis questioned, pouring wine for Luke and whiskey for himself, watching the vampire sit comfortably in the chair in front of the Tomlinson's desk.

Vampires could be Born or Raised. The born were far more powerful and the few lineages still capable of doing so were called _nobles_. Both the gestation and the birth of a vampire was an extremely risky process for those who carried it and at the present time, it was not a very common practice.

Nobles had mixed with the Raised at some point in their lineage. Purebloods, however, descend directly from the first vampire family. All direct children of the first ones, who never stained their descendants with Reised. There were seven branches - one for each member of the original family - and they only reproduced among themselves.

It was no surprise that they were almost extinct.

There were seventeen in the world, Luke being one of them.

They were leaders, they were destructive, they had abilities that surpassed human comprehension and they were also the only vampires capable of transforming a human with their bite.

Without purebloods, there was no such thing as Raised.

Without Raised, the vampire community would eventually die. The nobles would not take care of the lineage for long, even in their immortality.

And that was where Luke's social responsibility came in because soon he was supposed to choose his partner. The other parent of his future pureblood child. One of the other sixteen pureblood survivors. 

And that meant stepping on Ashton's explosion zone, after all, he would have a family with someone and that _was way beyond_ going out on a date with a Jane or John doe, but, yeah, he was not think about it.

Luke was purposely postponing the inevitable.

"Yes, but I think you will be disappointed." Luke accepted the wine and saw Louis settle into his own chair.

"Clarify." They both sipped their own glasses before Luke started.

“Harry Edward Styles, twenty-seven years old, son of Anne Selley, was born on February 1st. I have very little information about his childhood or his mother, except that she took her own life when he was four. Harry was raised up on the streets as far as I know. He was registered as a child for theft, mostly for food, he even stayed institutionalized for a while in a child psychiatric center. He claimed to be able to predict people's deaths, but the local psychiatrist said it was just a delusion after what happened to his mother. He should have seen the signs of depression in her and the suicidal urges, and he believed he had somehow guessed that she would try to take her own life.” Luke, whose curls framed his face like he was a goddamn angel, shrugged.

Broad shoulders, with muscle body, everything just _perfectly fit_ in his more than six feet tall. Luke Hemmings was one of the most beautiful men Louis had ever seen in his life and he did not have a single drop of regret in his being for going to bed with him.

Louis was a _connoisseur_ of beautiful things.

“When he turned eighteen, a _benefactor_ paid for his studies at Noctis Royal University,” simply the best and most expensive university in all Noctis. _Very interesting_. “and he graduated in law. Interestingly, Styles only participated in pro bono cases and all in defense of some downworlder. His job has already freed some of them from the death penalty, if you wanna know.” Louis raised his eyebrows, honestly impressed.

_"And...?"_ He encouraged Luke, who was entertained with his own wine, his legs comfortably crossed.

“And this is it. Nothing more. No family, no address other than the little room on the third floor of the Purgatorium, no love affair to be heard of, no job or fixed income, nothing. The downworld likes him and protects him. They give him a home, give him food, lie and probably die for him, but Harry won that space for the service he does for them. There is nothing that doesn’t fit. "

"And the benefactor?"

“There is no record. Harry paid cash every month and was never seen in the company of anyone from high society. His classmates said he was polite but extremely closed and always dressed from head to toe, even in summer. He wore gloves all the time and was the best student in the class. He would have won an Honor to Merit plaque as the best student of the class... If he had shown up at the Commencement Ceremony.

"So are you saying that he never made his vows as a lawyer?" It was starting to get completely absurd.

“No, he did. He and the Dean in a classroom, with one more witness, a week after the official ceremony and just because it was necessary for him to be able to practice the profession.” Louis got up from his chair after hearing that, smiling to himself, but smiling with complete indignation, passing to glance the lake. The deep turquoise waters were the Sirens' home.

Aggressive creatures, the Sirens. Aggressive and terribly beautiful. At least when they were out of the water.

"What do you think of all this, Luke?" Luke was a downworlder himself, he had much more contact with the unusual than Louis. His opinion was needed there.

"I think Harry Edward Styles is the most interesting person I've heard from in a long, long time."

And Luke didn't know half of it.


End file.
